


Double

by redscout



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: Simmons could've sworn the Blues and Reds didn't have their own Grif. Maybe he's seeing things.





	Double

**Author's Note:**

> takes place during s15, assumedly during/sometime after e9/10. no real spoilers if you haven't seen 10 yet but be wary regardless. also sorry the title kinda sucks.
> 
> remember when i wrote that Happy grimmons fic like a month ago? yeah.

He doesn’t see him until it’s late.

They’d already eaten dinner, and Simmons was debating whether or not he should go to bed already. His nights had gotten considerably worse since staying with the Blues and Reds, and knowing of their soon to befall betrayal-- that he had no real proof of, but god, was he uncomfortable around that Temple character for reasons he failed to explicate to his friends-- made it much harder than it should’ve been to fall asleep. But then he saw him, blue visor and all, fully convinced he was hallucinating from a meal of close-to-raw radioactive fish. They didn’t have a Grif, he was sure of that when they all met face to face. In fact, he triple-checked, and let himself be relieved that there was no weird, double Grif. He didn’t need any more of that trouble distracting him when the real guy, by proxy, for god’s sake, was keeping him occupied. But the color was unmistakable. Simmons found himself wondering when he stood absently to approach him if this guy called his armor yellow.

“Uh,” he starts, when he’s within speaking range, clearly hoping he won’t make things awkward but _knowing_ he’s failing. “Hey,” he continues, slowly. “I didn’t know the Blues and Reds had their own Grif. Let me guess, your name is Grif but with two fs?”

“Simmons?” He freezes. Oh, god.

“...Grif?”

“Oh, yeah, hey, man,” Grif-- yes, _the_ Grif, he can’t _believe_ what he’s hearing-- greets, as if it’s the most nonchalant occasion in the world, and Simmons nearly has a heart attack.

“Grif! What the _hell_ are you doing here, I thought you stayed on the moon!” He can’t hide the fact that he’s freaking out. It’s not that simple. Grif would’ve told him if he were stowing away, right? He would’ve told him and they would’ve laughed about it like they always do, and Simmons would help him trick everybody and surprise them and it would be a big, happy, barely-reunion. It’d only been a couple of weeks, so it wouldn’t be too phenomenal, but nonetheless, everyone would be excited. He’d be back with Grif the right way.

“Oh, uh, I did,” his friend starts, and sighs quietly, twining his armored fingers in front of him. “Uh, I’ll be honest with you, Simmons. I reverted back to like, super depressed in the week you guys left, so that wasn’t fun. I’ve lost weight, so haha, have your last laugh now.” Simmons swallows, hearing the masked coldness in Grif’s voice. He doesn’t get the chance to apologize. “But, uh, you know, I was sulking, the uje, and then these guys showed up. They said they heard about you guys leaving me, and the guy in blue was kissing some _major_ ass.” He pauses again, seeming to remember fondly. “He started some shit about how important I was to my old team and was super sympathetic about you all just abandoning me, so he asked me to be, well, their orange guy.” Simmons thinks after he stops talking, for what feels like an eternity. All of the things that Grif had explained had a fresh feeling guilt surging to his chest again. Depressed? Leaving him? _Abandoning_ him?

“Grif, wh…” He speaks instantly to distract himself, trying to gain his bearings again. “No, we’re… these guys are bad news, Grif. I’m planning on telling everybody, and then we’re all gonna get the fuck out of here, ‘cause I don’t trust Temple farther than I can throw him and--”

“Oh, I know.” It’s such a simple phrase, and it makes Simmons’ vision swim.

“You… know?”

“Yeah, of course I know. I’m not a fucking idiot, Simmons,” he snaps, and that coldness is back. Simmons may pass out. “Of course they’re shady. But you know what? Despite the fact that that guy was bullshitting everything he said to me, they’re _nice._ Surge?” and he stops, to chuckle exasperatedly, “ _Likes_ me! He said some stupid bullshit about being the son he never had, but it _meant_ something to me! Gene and I have _intelligent conversations_ a nerd like you could only _dream_ of participating in.” Simmons’ face falls behind the visor when he mentions his double. “If I’d have known you ignoring my Star Wars meta conversation starters all these years was this detrimental to my mental health, I would’ve quit forever ago! These guys, they like me, Simmons. They give a shit. And that’s all I’m really asking for. So, yeah, I know. Big whoop if they’re planning on killing me. It’s not exactly a step down from being on Red. I’m not coming.” Simmons panics internally when Grif turns to leave, and he jumps to follow, hollering.

“I care, Grif, we need you!” he forces out, and regrets it immediately when Grif turns to stare him down, dead in the face. It’s silent for all of two seconds.

“Really? I mean, that’s not what everybody was saying back on that moon, but… hey, I’m sorry. That’s too bad.” And Grif turns around again, and keeps walking. Simmons eyes are glued to the place he was, processing the fact that he just let him walk away a second time. The words “I miss you” die on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> i've had a lot of theories flying around my head lately, especially about the blues and reds' grif, so i was thinking, what if they just picked up grif, and he stayed because he felt wanted for once? just a thought. i'm rehashing happy grimmons. anyway, hope you enjoyed


End file.
